Wheels
by JULACHAN
Summary: aka the one where I explore the fact that I ship Stiles with everyone in a family way, and Isaac is Stiles.


Wheels

[aka the one where I explore the fact that I ship Stiles with everyone in a family way, and Isaac_ is_ Stiles.]

* * *

The second time someone crawled in through Stile's window, it wasn't actually Derek. It wasn't even Scott. Sadly it also wasn't Lydia.

Stiles flinched as he heard the window creak, shutting all his tabs by reflex. Which made sense considering his browser history (would have, if he were an idiot who didn't constantly clear it) consisted of Lydia Martin's Facebook, porn, and a new age thesis on sympathetic lycanthropy and pack dynamics.

Recovering quickly, Stiles slouched until he was a single being with his chair. He sighed loudly as he wiped his hands on his jeans.

"That was _definitely_ the wind just now, but hypothetically, just in case it _was_ Derek creeping into my room at night, he would definitely be on his way out _right now_ because he would understand that I have a very important paper due and I don't have time to deal with wolf problems."

(He wasn't doing his paper.)

"You're not doing your paper."

The ChairStiles entity fell down in shock.

"Isaac? Get out of my room!" Stiles struggled to divide from his chair half. He finally got himself and his previous half upright, and as he turned to face the werewolf on his windowsill he suddenly felt much smaller without it.

"Why?"

"Wha-why? Wh-This isn't a werewolf counselor's office! And it's my house! You're trespassing-I have a paper due!"

"You are so not doing your homework right now."

"_Why are you even here_?" Stiles not quite resigned, backing slightly to his chair again. Vulnerable (adorable) teenager or not, Isaac was still a super-human-pack-hunter-of-the-night. Stiles was just the vulnerable (adorable) teenager part, leaving his only power canceled out.

But ChairStiles had wheels. Did Isaac have wheels? Stiles. Thought. Not.

"I got kicked out," Isaac replied, seemingly unaware of the arms race playing out between them, "not for good, though..."

"What?"

"...the week maybe. Yeah. Probably just for most of this week."

"Oh sorry my mouth must have auto-corrected, I meant to say WHAT?"

Isaac looked into Stiles' eyes and smiled, suddenly, like Stiles was approaching the punch line of a familiar joke, then quickly frowned and opted instead for inspecting his hands.

Was he blushing?

"Are you blushing?" Stiles blurted.

"Erica's on her period." The mutter was barely audible coming from Isaac as he seriously pondered the existence that is the human cuticle, but there was no doubt of what had been said.

Stiles started to laugh, but within a second of processing the information, dropped back into his chair, the laugh left hanging like a ghost in the air. "Oh. Ooh yeah. Uhm, sorry man." He felt his face heat up.

Cuticles were in fact fascinating. What are they for? Are they what holds your nail in, or are they what grows into your fingernail? Is it the same for werewolves? Could you get a hang-claw? These were the questions Stiles needed answers too.

"So...um...not that I didn't learn my lesson about asking you questions from that last answer, but why are you _here_?" Stiles squeezed out of the silence.

"Ironically enough... Uh... Ok well. So when you're a werewolf, y'know how you - well, you don't of course - but you notice things. And when a girl's on her period... You notice a lot of other things."

The amount of blushing in the room multiplied. The window had been open for a while now, and Stiles shivered. He vaguely wondered if Isaac was cold and if he should change the subject to this genderless, bloodless topic.

"Like, you can smell the blood and stuff, but also, when a girls on her period...and I didn't know this...but I could smell... um... they get kinda horny."

Stiles vowed he would never ask questions again. It had never worked before but this was a whole new level of mistake to learn from.

The rest of the story came out of Isaac's mouth like they were a very long band-aid he was trying to pull off quickly. "So, it has been a while since I've lived with a girl, but I know Derek had his sister and I'm not sure about Boyd, but somehow both of them knew something about leaving well enough alone that I didn't. I kind of teased her a bit. I brought you up actually. We all know about that crush she had, and... Basically she kicked me out screaming something like 'if I'm so interested in Stiles I should just go live with him' or whatever. I tried to get Derek to protect me, but he and Boyd agreed that it was my fault and they weren't going to be dragged into it."

"Wait, so you actually did what she told you to do?" Stiles asked. He was filled with sympathy for Isaac on top of his many previous emotions, causing him to once again ask a question despite his vow.

"She was really angry. Chairs were thrown. Chairs that were bolted to the ground. And stuff."

Stiles let out a long whistle that turned into a sigh. Upon making a very bad decision, he finished off the sigh with a slight grunt.

"All right. Here's what you're going to do. You're going to take this," Stiles tossed a notebook at Isaac, "and you're going to get out and go to the front door. You're going to knock, like a normal person, and when my dad goes to the door to let you in, like a normal person, we're going to swear upon our graves that you are here for an overnight-paper-writing-session, and we are going to convince him that he already agreed to this." Stiles wheeled over to his closet, partially to get a sleeping bag, partially to flaunt his abilities like an animal barring its teeth.

"Thank you," said Isaac.

"Get out of my damn window," said Stiles.


End file.
